Last Favour
by Lildrusilla
Summary: Merlin Set in the world of the novelisation. Idath’s thoughts when Mab comes to claim Caliban for Mordred. oneshot


**Last Favour**

_(Merlin) Set in the world of the novelisation. Idath's thoughts when Mab comes to claim Caliban for Mordred. (one-shot)_

_Disclaimer: Alas, I own none of it sobs> _

_Notes from the Author- this is intended to be a one-shot fic. I might write some sort of follow up, or add one more chapter to it, depending on whether I can come up with a decent one or not. And, my one shots being what they are, you may well wish I had never even written this part! _

_To help those of you who haven't read the books, and will likely find this confusing, here is some information. Idath doesn't appear in "Merlin", but he does appear in the novelisation as the Lord of Death. He has his own kingdom (like Mab), called Anoeth (which is basically the road to the afterlife). Caliban is the axe that Mordred uses to fight with (It is never named in the film). Until Mab gives it to Mordred, it is kept in a big pillar of ice, surrounded by a big lake of fire, in a room in Idath's castle. Oh, and it starts off as a sword, but changes to an axe when it is given to Mordred, but why that happens is not really important to the story._

The Cauldron of Rebirth was an extraordinary creation. Large, and usually shrouded in mist, it was the only power in the three realms of men that could accurately foresee the future. None of the Powers in any of the three realms had that power, not the Elemental Kings, not even Mab for all that she was Queen of the Old Ways as well as being the Queen of Air and Darkness. Lord Idath, the Lord of Death, and the King of Anoeth also lacked the innate ability to see the future for himself, but, since as the Cauldron of Rebirth belonged to him, its powers had become synonymous with his own, until all those who knew anything of him saw him as the Master of Time- able to see the future, past and present, and even able to reverse death (though that _was_ an innate ability of his own, not the cauldron's).

Once, many had travelled to Anoeth to gaze into the cauldron, attempting to read their future in the misty, swirling surface of the liquid inside. Even though Anoeth was the road of the dead, there was always some brave or foolhardy mortal ready to travel across the treacherous landscape for the prize they believed waited for them at the other end. Such exploits had both impressed and exasperated Idath- the future was not meant to be read like an open book by any curious mortal. Ruling over the Land of the Dead, he had little time or patience for the future. More than once, he had wondered if that had been the reason that he had been granted the cauldron, long before even his mind could remember- because he used it so little, the danger of him misusing it was miniscule.

However, over the years, as the Old Ways grew weaker and more and more mortals turned away from him and his kind, the number of living mortals willing to travel to Anoeth had decreased, until finally, there were no living humans in Anoeth any more. Now, Idath found himself gazing into the Cauldron of Rebirth more and more, trying to view for himself the future of the Old Ways. He himself had little to fear from the lack of belief. One thing Idath had learned over the many, many years of his existence, was that every creature, be it man, beast or even god, feared death. And as long as that fear continued, he would exist, here in his castle on the outskirts of life. Despite this, however, Idath felt a kind of detached curiosity about what would happen to everything else linked to the Old Ways. About what would happen to the shrines, the temples, the few remaining worshippers, about what would happen to those beings that made up the very fabric of the Old Ways themselves- the Lady of the Lake, the Mountain King, the Lord of Fire, and Queen Mab. Especially Mab.

The greatest irony was, of course, that when he finally came to use his cauldron, it would not show him anything of value. All he could see were faint, wispy shadows, from which he could make nothing out. When he tried to view the future of the Elemental Kings, the shadows grew fainter still, and when he enquired deeper, tried to see Mab, the surface of the cauldron went completely blank. This did not frustrate Idath (very little flustered him nowadays), but it puzzled him. Of course, the cauldron worked in mysterious ways. It did not always show its message clearly, and sometimes not at all, but after months of trying, it usually gave Idath at least some message that could have sense made out of it. Alas, not this time.

Gazing determinedly into the cauldron, Idath stared at the surface, willing it to show something, anything that could give him an indication of what was to come. He concentrated on Mab, bringing her image into his mind's eye. There was nothing for a moment, and Idath thought that it must have failed again. Then, without warning the surface of the liquid began to bubble and ripple furiously, before settling itself into a picture. Idath peered at the newly settled image, recognising it as an axe. At first, the axe meant nothing to him, until he recognised the sign of the eclipse engraved on the shaft of the axe. In an instant, Idath recognised the weapon. It was Caliban, Excalibur's dark twin, the only weapon that could match it in battle. Where Excalibur ushered in new beginnings, Caliban brought only endings. Caliban could change its shape to that of many different weapons, but its nature could never be changed. At that moment, Caliban lay in his castle, enclosed in a room of fire and ice, as Excalibur had been enclosed in rock, but Idath was not surprised that, now Excalibur had returned to the mortal world, Caliban would play a part in that world's future also.

As he watched, the blade began to swing back and forth, as though someone really was striking people down with it. As Idath peered closer, he could see faces reflected in its hilt. The first, Idath recognised as Arthur, King of Britain. The second was a young man. Though Idath had never seen the boy in his life, he knew it could only be Mab's new protégée, Mordred. The third was Mab herself.

At that time, the message of the cauldron seemed to elude Idath. Usually, what was shown in the cauldron made some semblance of sense. Now, however, he could not for the life (or death) of him make sense of this message.

Gazing into the cauldron intently for a while, trying to fathom the mysterious message, Idath's thoughts were abruptly brought to a halt by the loud knocking and shouting coming from the front gates of his castle. As though startled by the noise, the image in the cauldron shimmered and vanished.

Idath supposed that the knocking on the gates of his castle should not have come as a surprise to him, but it had been so long since anyone came here that he had long since stopped expecting them to.

With the merest gesture, he appeared in the entrance hall of the castle. Pulling open the door, he called in a loud, deep voice.

"Who summons me?" If he had been hoping that this unexpected audience would be impressed by the sight of the Lord of Winter, he would have been sorely disappointed. The voice that answered him managed to be somehow as whispery as the wind, harsh, and as sharp as a knife all at once.

"I summon you, Lord of Winter." Idath's eyes shot downwards to fall upon Queen Mab herself, standing before him, almost as though his thoughts had called her here. He should have known it would be Mab. No other being in the three realms would dare to have spoken to him like that. Even the Elemental Kings ignored him for the most part, avoiding him as best they could. Not so with Mab. Even though her powers were gradually growing weaker, even though his height (more than a head and shoulders taller than her) dwarfed her, even though all mortals feared him, Mab had never feared him. Perhaps it was because they had been lovers once, long ago, though that time was long past. Perhaps it was because Mab was so incredibly confident in her own abilities. Either way, it mattered little.

"It has been a long time since you called on me," Idath said thoughtfully, wondering what it was that Mab wanted. Though they had indeed been lovers once, Mab never called on Idath unless it served some purpose of her own. The ability to hide or forget their emotions was one of the very few powers they both shared. He continued, "Vortigern… Merlin… Your champions have failed you one by one." Mab scowled at him momentarily; Idath suspected she disliked being reminded of past failures by someone who had made it quite clear he wanted no part in the war she was waging, simply because he didn't need to. The scowl was fleeting, however, replaced by an imperious, demanding look that seemed almost as though Mab were looking down at him, despite their difference in height.

"I have a new champion who will not fail," she informed him, any offence taken from Idath's earlier statement brushed off as though it meant nothing. And perhaps it didn't. Idath very rarely saw Mab, but the few times they had met, it had seemed that she cared less and less for anything except regaining the power of the Old Ways. Mab went on, "I will ensure it. I will give him Caliban. Now let me pass!"

The meaning of what he had seen suddenly slammed into Idath like one of his own horses. The message in the cauldron had been something to do with Mab, and Caliban. He hadn't realised what it had meant at first, but now it became clear. The images on the blade of the axe were the victims of Caliban; not just its blade, but the dark magic it enclosed. Mab wanted Caliban for her young protégée, for Mordred, so that he could bring an end to King Arthur's reign. And it would, but it wouldn't end there. It would bring an end to Mordred and –Idath was certain he was right- it would bring an end to Mab's reign as the Queen of the Old Ways. He couldn't see Mab's future in the Cauldron of Rebirth, because it no longer existed. Idath watched Mab unblinkingly for a moment. He knew he couldn't tell Mab. It would be no good for one thing. As long as Mab thought it would defeat Arthur, she would never believe that it would be an instrument in her own defeat, too.

"You dare much Madam," he replied evenly, stepping backwards. Mab crossed over the threshold into his castle. With her black hair and dark clothes, Mab was almost impossible to see in the shadows, she almost seemed to disappear, as though she were as insubstantial as a ghost. Her unblinking, glowing eyes, wolf's eyes watched him from the darkness, expressionless and impossible to read as they had been for years. Cold, calculating and devoid of compassion.

They hadn't always been like that. Mab herself hadn't always been like that-Idath remembered when her eyes had showed some emotion. There had always been a certain amount of aloofness and intensity about her that stopped anyone from getting too close to her, but at least there had been glimpses of smiles, laughter, love, tears… Idath wondered how long ago Mab had stopped crying for all she had lost. Yes, there had been anger too, but not this cool, detached void of vengeful hatred, consuming everything within her but the desire for victory. This was the truth, but as the mortal's beliefs had changed and shifted the country, their monarch, their religion; so they had changed her, changed her from who they'd been once into the being that stood in front of him now. Idath knew that he could never forgive mortal kind for that. Anything else from mortal's, he could forgive- killing each other, killing themselves, their greed, their selfishness- all of that was to be expected from a human, and it harmed no-one but themselves, but what they'd done to Mab, albeit unwittingly, was beyond forgiveness.

Idath stared back at Mab, wondering if there was any way to warn her of the dangers ahead, to pull her back from the dangerous route she was walking before she destroyed herself, and the Old Ways with her.

"Caliban was forged at the beginning of time to be a match for Excalibur," he told her. Mab's eyes gleamed with the slightest hint of impatience. She knew all this, of course she did, she and Idath and their kind had been there when it had been created, before even they could remember. What he was telling her was precisely the reason why she wanted the weapon, and yet he couldn't help hoping that she would see sense. "Each warrior who has wielded it has brought an end to an age in blood and fire. Is that what you want?" Then, making a decision, he told her, "This is the last boon you may ever ask of me, Queen of the Old Ways. Choose well."

"I want _victory_," Mab snapped, without even hesitating, "And I will pay any price to get it. Show me the sword!"

_You would pay the price of your own life, then?_ Idath wanted to say, but he bit back the remark and regarded Mab for a long moment instead. There was nothing more he could say to try and make her change her mind, he knew Mab too well for that. Her stubbornness was one thing that hadn't changed about her.

But everything else had.

Idath remembered Mab how she had once been, and then looked at the woman who stood in front of him, what she had become. It wasn't her fault, she had never asked for this war to come to Britain, but come it had. And Mab was killing herself in pursuit of some deranged dream of the Old Ways returning to glory. Idath had long ago resigned himself to the fact that the Old Ways would not return to their former glory in a hundred mortal lifetimes, if ever; and now he was forced to resign himself to the fact that what it had done to Mab could not be undone. She would never recover what she had once been, and Idath could do nothing about it.

With this, Idath turned on his heel, and began to cross the main hall of the castle, back to the corridors that would lead them to Caliban. If there was nothing more he could do for Mab, then he must return to the role of the Lord of Death, and grant her this one last favour he had promised her.

Behind him, he heard Mab quicken her pace to keep up with him, and wondered what she would do if he just vanished, leaving her alone in the vast Labyrinth of corridors. Whether she would give up her claim to Caliban and leave, or get lost wandering through the palace. Perhaps she would be stuck here long enough for this war to end once and for all, one way or another. But then, if he'd honestly thought that Mab would fall for such a cheap trick, he would not have entertained the notion of taking her to Caliban in the first place.

Finally arriving at his destination, he paused outside a door made of silver and black iron. Turning towards Mab, he spoke.

"Beyond this door lies what you seek, Queen Mab." Pushing past him eagerly, Mab pushed the door.

"It's locked!" she snapped accusingly at Idath. Idath reached into his pocket and held out a large, partly rusted key.

"Take this, and do what you will, Mab. It will link my domain and yours, so that you may come and go here as you wish," he said, knowing that if he had to guide her to Caliban himself one more time, he might have done something ridiculous or possibly dangerous in an attempt to make her see the ill-advisedness of her actions. Mab held out her hand, like a child anticipating sweets. Unwillingly, he dropped the key into her hand, and her fingers closed tightly around it reflexively.

"And Caliban is here?" Mab demanded, as though she suspected Idath was trying to cheat her out of the sword in some way.

_Oh no, Queen Mab,_ Idath thought bitterly, _You may take your precious weapon, and all that it will bring down on your head with it!_

"In its fashion," he told her in a cold, expressionless voice, retreating even further back to the cold, emotionless role that being the Lord of Death entailed. His own losses were negligible when compared to her- he had become colder and less emotional, yes. His Wild Hunt had all but ceased to exist, stealing one of the last links to the world of men he had. Yet he wondered if that might have been a blessing. The further removed he was, the less he stood to lose. After all, it appeared he had already lost Mab.

"Have a care what you do, Queen of the Old Ways…" he called more softly to her, as he went to disappear. He no longer knew what he felt for Mab- whether his sadness and anger, both on her behalf and towards her, was the result of latent feelings he still might have for her after all these years, or whether it was just fondness through long association.

Either way, he knew he could not bear to stay here and watch as Mab set herself on the course to her own destruction. He vanished from outside the door, to as far away from Mab, Caliban and the sudden unusual amount of anger and emotion that he felt whilst thinking about them, as it was possible to get in his palace. It didn't change the fact that he knew he would look back and regret this day for as long as he existed in this realm.

_Wow, I finished another fic! Well, that's two, anyway! Alas, I am not hugely happy with this, but my one-shots are usually fairly crap-tacular, so I'm not sure that it was as bad as it could have been! Either way, I welcome reviews, and constructive comments, but the only flames I welcome are the ones on a BBQ. No flame reviews, please._

_Hope you enjoyed!_


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